Being Human Again
by NonyMouse
Summary: AU. Hal sets out to help Cutler regain the humanity he stole from his protégé. Starts after Alex's death.
1. Prologue

**June 1954**

"Why did you recruit me?"

Hal barely heard the question at first. It was not until his new recruit repeated himself that the Old One looked up from the report he had been reading. There was a brief hint of conflicting feelings and far away thoughts in his eyes before he wiped his face clean of emotion and responded in his usual vaguely smiling manner to the annoying young man who had come, uninvited, into his study. "I would have thought it was obvious," he sneered, a wicked grin flicking across his face as he added, "But then, you have been disappointing me an awful lot, lately." He cast a lazy smile at Cutler, then returned to his reading, hoping that the younger man would get the hint and leave. Unfortunately for Hal, Cutler was persistent.

"See," he said, his voice sounding almost despondent, "that's what I mean. You expect me to do all these things, kill all these people, and all I ever do is fail you." Cutler was scuffing his shoe on the ground at this point, hunching over as he always did as though to protect himself from the world. Hal found it pathetic. Originally, he had hoped that Cutler would outgrow such human insecurities once he was more than human, but he persisted in acting so much like a _man _when he could have been so much more. It was irritating.

Hal hesitated a moment, wondering if Cutler would eventually leave if Hal just ignored him. However, he knew the younger man would continue to stand there, waiting for either an answer or a more blunt dismissal, and he was getting scuff marks on Hal's nice, clean floor.

"I recruited you because I thought you were clever."

Cutler was silent for a beat, confusion clear on his face. It was almost humorous, but Hal had been feeling restless lately and didn't laugh as he once would have. "Clearly you were wrong," Cutler muttered, bitterness evident in his voice. He finally turned to go, and Hal found, to his consternation, that he wanted to say more. He was about to get what he had been hoping for just a moment before as Cutler reached for the door, but he ruined it by speaking.

"Do you remember the Butler case, in '47?" Cutler froze, one hand on the doorknob.

"That was my first case. I botched it up completely; it's what made everyone at the firm think I were an idiot." Cutler's voice shook, his accent becoming more pronounced than usual as he spoke of his first failure, one that had occurred before he ever knew Hal existed.

Hal sighed as he glanced briefly at the reports lying on the desk at which he sat. He was torn between the desire to say more, to explain, and the desire to take back his previous words and tell Cutler to leave. Now that he had begun, however, he found himself talking almost before he realized it.

"You came awfully close to discovering things that you shouldn't have been discovering, during that case." Cutler looked back over his shoulder, confusion still filling his eyes. They were such soft eyes; even after four years with Hal, the younger man still retained such odd vestiges of innocence. Hal did not understand it, but he continued speaking, keeping his other musings to himself. "Do you remember the files that mysteriously disappeared before you could show them to anyone? You brought up things we had thought we hid well enough that they could never be dug up, but you found them anyway and brought them up in the trial. We had to send Fergus in to destroy the case, to make you lose."

Cutler stepped closer, whispered, "That was you-" before Hal cut him off, continued speaking in his calm, emotionless voice.

"Then there were the Windsor killings, a few months later. You should never have been involved there, but somehow you wriggled your way onto the case, and once again we had to intervene more than we expected." Hal glanced at Cutler, who was staring back at him with his own emotions clear on his face. There was the ever present confusion, but there was also pain, uncertainty, and a certain desperate hunger to hear more. "At that point, the other Old Ones wanted to kill you." A soft intake of breath gave away Cutler's fear at those words. Once again, Hal found himself uninterested in laughing at the fear, something which normally would have amused him greatly.

Still, he could not stop the undignified snort that escaped his lips. "Do you really think you would be standing here now if something had not persuaded them otherwise?" Hal asked. Shame crossed Cutler's face as he realized how clearly he had displayed his fear a moment before, and he ducked his head.

He could not stop the question, though. "Why aren't I dead, then?"

Hal leaned back in his chair, watching Cutler through unreadable eyes. "I told them not to." Cutler's head shot up, though when he met Hal's eyes he immediately looked away again. Hal felt a stab of pleasure at the action, as it stirred a hint of that part of him that had seemed to be fading lately. He loved the knowledge that he was so feared that no one could dare to look him in the eyes. A moment later, the feeling faded again, and the urge to continue speaking returned.

"I saw that you were clever. You used tricks we Old Ones did not think of, because we are too old sometimes to see how the world changes. I convinced them to watch you, to observe, and gave you tests." Cutler still would not look at Hal, but he visibly hung on every word, his desire to hear more painfully obvious. So Hal obliged. "You did not always pass my tests, but your cleverness became indisputable when you passed any of them at all. So, I decided that I would recruit you." The ugly part of Hal that loved pain chose that moment to rear its head from wherever it had been hiding lately, and he could not help but add, "I have wondered, since then, if I should have just let the others kill you as they wanted to."

Cutler flinched at the last addition.

A part of Hal, born of the restlessness that plagued him lately, wanted to comfort Cutler. The pain so clear on the other man's face at his constant inability to live up to Hal's expectations stirred something unexplainable in Hal. Fortunately, the unpleasant feeling receded as Hal watched Cutler open his mouth to speak.

"Now," he said, cutting the other man off, "I have answered your question. I would advise you to get out of my study now, and if you ever bother me with stupid, uninvited questions again, I may just kill you myself." Cutler practically ran out the door, Hal's soft laughter chasing him on his way.

As he watched Cutler flee, Hal realized, to his great displeasure, that his mood swings were becoming more frequent. The pleasure at Cutler's departure was fading, being replaced by the unpleasant feeling from a few moments earlier. This time, however, he could identify the feeling. He had felt it before, though he hated it. It was a feeling that he had not felt in nearly fifty years, and it made him want to destroy something for feeling it now.

Instead of raging and breaking things, however, Hal merely leaned farther back in his chair, closed his eyes, and did his best to ignore the guilt.

* * *

**So, I have not decided yet whether this will be a one-shot, or a full chaptered story. I found Cutler's story fascinating, and I hated his ending. It was sort of like the writers said, "Hey, let's create a character who spends his whole life being overlooked and ignored, who had a super shitty past and lost everything he cared about, and then have his last attempt at an actually quite clever plan be completely underappreciated and ruined, then we'll kill him off as he fails to do anything at all useful to even advance the plot." Therefore, if I do continue this, the rest of it will take place in season 4 and then the future, and will turn AU.**


	2. A New Perspective

**2012**

Hal hardly felt it as his knees hit the rough concrete floor. In front of him, propped up on the dirty wire fence in the damp and disgusting basement room, was the bloody corpse of a dark haired girl. Though he had only known the girl for a short amount of time, he had been growing to like her and the way she challenged him. In spite of this, it was not short, dark hair, a leather jacket, and unlaced boots he saw covered in blood in front of him.

Instead, Hal saw blond ringlets and a pretty dress that he had torn and bloodied, lying on a metal table as tubes he had placed so delicately drained blood from a once lovely throat into crystal decanters. In all his many years, Hal had gone through many dark cycles, killing countless innocents without regard to age or sex. He regretted all of them during his kinder cycles, but there were few he regretted as much as Rachel Cutler.

The reason Hal had killed her was standing next to him speaking, mocking the words that Hal had once used, twisting them in his nervous, desperate voice. Hal had killed Cutler's wife just as Cutler had now killed this young, innocent girl whose only crime had been a few dates with Hal Yorke. He had killed her to break Nick Cutler, to kill the shreds of humanity that clung stubbornly to the new vampire like a ghost clinging to its old home.

Cutler's kill was meant to bring Lord Harry back. It showed Hal the monster he had been, just as Rachel's death had shown Cutler the monster he could become.

The thought recalled to Hal the plan Cutler had spoken of earlier, after feeding him Alex's blood. He cut Cutler's speech off, fear spiking through his chest. "Who's the werewolf?" Hal spoke quickly, the need to know clear in his voice. A brief flash of confusion passed over Cutler's face before he understood the question.

"Does it matter?" Cutler asked, eyes shifting in discomfort at the sudden fear that Hal knew was rolling off him in waves. Hal repeated his question more desperately, and Cutler replied, confusion evident in his voice. "His name's Tom, why?"

Hal looked away. Of course it would be Tom. Without even realizing it, Cutler truly was mirroring the event that taken place so many years ago, doing his best to rip one of the few people keeping him sane and good out of his life just as he had once ripped away the person keeping Cutler kind. Clever Cutler was finally living up to the potential Hal had once seen in him. It was ironic, how the man had been so very human when Hal wanted a monster, and now that the monster stood next to him, begging for approval with his clever, insane plan, all Hal wanted was for the human Nick to come back. There was only one way to stop this, but it would be difficult. Building a human was always so much harder than breaking one.

"It won't work," Hal said, almost whispering, as he glanced back at Cutler. The other vampire looked back at him, startled.

"What d'you mean?" Cutler asked, and Hal could see his composure begin to break. He remembered, then, how desperately Nick Cutler had always sought his approval, trying so hard to please him up until the day he disappeared.

"This plan of yours, it won't work." Hal spoke softly, drawing himself up from the nervous hunch he had been in and moving imperceptibly closer to Nick Cutler. Hunger and fear burned in equal measure through his veins, but he had to be strong now.

Cutler licked his lips and drew himself farther into his hunched, uncertain posture. "Of course it will work," he said, almost pleading. "Humans may be strong when threatened and afraid, but they're also stupid. They'll be begging for us to save them, I know they will!" The slightly hysterical edge to the last few words set Hal's teeth on edge as he realized how little he had taught the one who was once supposed to be his protégé.

In that moment, Hal saw the stuttering man before him in way he had not seen since he had first recruited him. Nick Cutler was a clever man. He saw things in the world that others missed, thought of things that other vampires, stuck forever in the world they had died in, never considered. It was why he had recruited the man. Yet, for all his own cleverness, Hal had been blind. Cutler worked with information, not with death, and Hal had never bothered to teach his protégé anything about their world except the killing part. He had not wanted to hear any plans that Cutler made until he was older, had just wanted to watch the timid man tear the world apart. In other words, he had acted like an Old One who cared only for blood and screams, and never cared for the bloodless subtly that was Cutler's gift.

Hal pushed down the hunger and fear still coursing through his veins and masked the emotion in his voice when he turned to the other vampires that had come to the cellar with them. "Leave us," he commanded, and they saw the Old One in him and obeyed. Cutler shrank back from him and glanced away and down to the floor. To his surprise, Hal found that this hurt almost more than the hunger. He clearly also saw the Old One in Hal once more, and expected punishment for failing, yet again, to come up with a plan that would make his maker truly proud. Hal could see all the hopes crumble in Cutler's eyes, and he hated himself for what he had done. When he finally brought himself to speak again, he let his Old One mask fall away and spoke gently, though he could not fully keep the pain from his voice.

"The other Old Ones will not like this plan," he said softly. "That is why it will fail. They understand blood and killing, not subtlety and tricks like this. That you did not know that is my fault, not yours."

When Cutler looked up, his obvious anxiety making him twitchy and uncertain, it took him a few false tries before he could reply. "I – you – I would have known if you had stayed!" His voice rose as he gained confidence, till it was nearly a yell. "I would have known how to make a proper plan if you had ever bothered to teach me anything!" The end of his speech caught in something remarkably like a sob, and Hal had to look away.

"I know."

His whispered confession worked like an electric shock on Cutler, who surged forward and clutched at the front of Hal's coat, crying, "You know? _You know?_ Why did you do it, then, if you knew how _useless _I was without you? Why did you never teach me anything else when you knew I was rubbish at killing? Why did you abandon me?" And the pain that burst through so clearly in the final question was too much for Hal. He wrenched himself away as Cutler let out a shaky, nearly sobbing breath in front of him.

The blood on the floor caught Hal's gaze momentarily as he turned his head towards the opposite wall. It called to him. The small amount he'd drunk earlier with Cutler had done nothing but make him desperate for more. In this moment, however, Cutler was more important than the hunger. He should have always been more important, the only protégé Hal had ever taken on, but there was nothing Hal could do now about his past but mourn, and this was not the time for that.

Behind him, Cutler tried to speak, but Hal cut him off. "I can never truly make up for what I have done," he said softly, "but I can promise you that I will help you from now on. I will not abandon you again." He looked back at Cutler then, and the hope in the other man's eyes hurt nearly as much as the pain had a moment ago. Hal doubted that Cutler understood what he really meant by his promise of help, but he swore to himself that he would find a way to help Cutler regain the humanity that he had long ago stolen away.

* * *

**So, the general consensus (from all two reviews, so potentially with large error bars) was that I should continue this. Therefore, I am continuing it! I don't really want to get bogged down in repeating everything that happened in the show, which is why the main part of the story is set around the time that Cutler killed Alex, when things start to turn AU in my story. There will, however, be periodic flashbacks when they assist the plot, like in the show. There will also be no ghost Alex, since she doesn't really have a good place in this story, and I'm also keeping Annie around.**


	3. Decisions

Several quiet moments passed, before Cutler lunged forwards and wrapped Hal in a hug. "I always knew (_hoped_) you'd come back," he whispered, and Hal could taste the truth beneath the lie. His stiff posture relaxed ever so slightly as he awkwardly patted Cutler on the back.

When Cutler pulled back, he was smiling that self-conscious, crooked smile that Hal recalled so well. "This plan can still work," he said, wringing his hands together as he gazed at Hal hopefully. "You can convince them-"

"No!"

Hal could tell immediately that he had spoken to quickly, to defensively. Cutler's eyes narrowed as he took in the tone. "You know him, don't you?" A light clicked in his eyes. "Oh my god, you've been spending this whole time with a bloody werewolf, haven't you?" It wasn't really a question, but Hal tried to backtrack anyway.

"No, of course not," he said, speaking the first words that came to mind. "It's been over fifty years, Nick. If I'd been spending this whole time with a werewolf, don't you think he'd be quite old by now?" He realized his mistake as soon as he made it.

"I never said Tom was young," Cutler said, drawing back from Hal. His eyes began to close off, and Hal frantically tried to fix things.

"You didn't have to say it, Cutler," He said, doing his best to keep his voice even, to give nothing away of the panic clawing up his throat. "I may not have been very good about telling you this back in the old days, but you are quite clever." Cutler began to perk up, and Hal continued, "I doubt you would get much fear out of an old werewolf who could barely stumble his way to the party, even from the most easily frightened humans." Cutler laughed, suspicion receding from his eyes, and Hal sighed. He was quick to smile, though, when Cutler moved back towards him.

Wide grey eyes regarded Hal for a moment before Cutler appeared to hit upon an epiphany. "I suppose you just don't want to go against the other Old Ones right now," he said with a small laugh. "Guess I can't blame you, what with the state you're in." Hal nodded along, his smile rather fixed.

Several minutes later, they had left the bloodstained basement room, much to Hal's relief, and returned to the main room. The whole way up the stairs, Cutler had fluttered nervously behind Hal, wringing his hands and bemoaning the now useless preparations he spent ages setting up, interspersed with decently subtle hints that it was not too late to make the whole thing work. By the time Hal sank into one of the few chairs at the edge of the circular room, he was torn between the desire to tell Cutler to shut up, and the desire to shut him up violently.

Ironically enough, though they had left the bloodstained room behind, the effects of the blood that Hal drank earlier were quickly becoming more pronounced now. In the basement, there had been too many things going on, too much he needed to think about and treat so carefully. Now, though, he was beginning to relax, and the bloodlust coursing through his veins was beginning to drag at his nerves. It irritated him, made everything seem to bright, too loud.

Finally, Hal snapped in the middle of Cutler's latest anecdote about his own cleverness. "Will you fucking shut up already?" he growled. "I cannot stand your mindless chattering." He bowed his head into his hands for a moment, frustration and thirst screaming through his mind. He didn't even have the smell of it to comfort him now that they were out of the basement. It was no longer close and waiting for him to lose control and drink it, lick it from the floor if he had to, and in a completely backwards way this made the thirst more real. He felt drunk, just as he had the previous day.

When he looked up, Cutler was frozen in the midst of a gesture. His smile had turned brittle, and when he let his hands fall to his sides and spoke, his voice had turned brittle, too. "Of course sir," he mumbled. "Don't even bother to listen to anything I have to say. I didn't realize when you said you'd help me this time that you meant everything would go back to _exactly_ the way it used to be." His eyes stared holes in the floor, but his words cut at Hal nonetheless. Guilt crept its way through the hunger, and Hal swallowed down his frustration.

"I am sorry, Nick," he managed to get out. This would never work if he simply reverted to who he once was, gave into the dark cycle he could feel trying to sneak up on him. It had begun when Leo died and Pearl left with him, though Annie, Tom, and Eve had held it at bay (after a brief near slip), to his great surprise, even managed to push it back. The moment the blood from Cutler's decanter had passed his lips, however, the darkness had reared inside of him, howling to be let out. He could not let it win. Even not counting himself and the new family he had begun to be a part of, he had to take care of Cutler.

Speaking of which, the younger man had moved over towards Hal, and was looking at him with a mixture of shock and something Hal could not identify. "I suppose things really have changed," he said at last, quietly. "You never would have apologized to me in the old days, not and meant it, at least."

Hal closed his eyes and reasserted control over his darkness. Leo had taught him well, and he used every one of his lessons to keep the cruelty and bloodlust he could feel crawling through him at bay. The cycles always played hell with his self control, but he knew he could do this. These thoughts gave him the inspiration him to speak.

"This is why I left, you know," he said, avoiding Cutler's gaze. He did not really deserve to look at the other man, if he thought about it. "The only way that I can be kind is to keep myself from drinking. I have to control the urges, or they will control me. I taught you all the wrong things when I taught you to kill, and that is one of my biggest regrets." He could almost feel Cutler's anger at his words.

"You abandoned me so that you could be _kind_?" Cutler almost screamed the words, but Hal could sense the pain beneath the rage. "You had _no right_ to leave me like that, not after everything you did! You took everything from me, killed my wife, turned me into a murderer and an addict, and then you left me because _you _felt bad?" Cutler had pushed himself off the wall during his speech and was now pacing, throwing wild glances at Hal periodically. The next word, barely whispered, cut through Hal like a knife. All he could see was wide, accusing grey eyes as Cutler asked, "_Why_?"

And Hal had no idea what to say. What could he say, when everything Cutler threw at him was nothing but truth? How could he truly say that he had become a better person with Cutler standing before him so broken, insurmountable evidence of the monster he had been even when he tried to be kind?

The sound of mobile phone ringing cut saved Hal the need to reply.

Cutler's gaze shot towards his pocket, where the sound originated from. He pulled out a fairly modern phone and glanced at the caller id, then looked up at Hal with a suddenly pleading, uncertain look. "It's the werewolf," he said, fidgeting a bit. Without waiting for a reply, he hit the answer button and held the phone up to his ear, voice suddenly more confident (though his nervous twitches remained) as he answered with, "Nick Cutler speaking; who is this?"

Tom's voice sounded across the space between Hal and Cutler, small and distorted from the phone and the distance, though his strong northern accent was still noticeable. Hal could just barely make out that Tom was inquiring as to Cutler's whereabouts. Apparently the plan Cutler had been so proud of was meant to culminate in tonight's party, a fact Hal had not really registered previously with everything else going on. He stared at Cutler, begging with his gaze for Cutler not to go through with it. He couldn't lose Tom, but he did not know what he would do if he had to forcefully stop his protégé.

Cutler, for his part, hesitated. Tom's voice could be heard again, more insistent this time as he asked if anything had happened. Fear gripped Hal at the thought of anything happening to Tom because of this. It was so like the young, uncouth werewolf to be so concerned about everyone around him, even a vampire who had shown him kindness. It was also just like to Tom to be unable to see through the lies Cutler had been feeding him, when he had taken ages to believe in Hal. Perhaps not all of Cutler's innocence had disappeared, and Tom had sensed the tatters of it still stuck to the vampire who had never wanted to kill. It would make sense for his reaction to Hal, too. Hal had lost his innocence long before he ever gained his fangs.

Sometimes, Tom showed a remarkable insight into other people, considering his complete lack of human interaction for most of his childhood.

On the phone, Tom's voice was becoming more worried as Cutler failed to answer. Hal could see the indecision warring on Nick Cutler's face, and he begged, "Don't do it," the words falling almost unbidden from his lips.

They affected Cutler immediately. He straightened up and finally spoke into the phone, eyes on Hal the whole time. "Sorry about that," he said, his voice once again unusually confident. "I had to take care of some unexpected business, but everything's all right now." He paused, took a steadying breath. "It turns out the Old Ones have been delayed, so they won't be getting here tonight. The plan's off for now." He turned the phone off before Tom could answer. Hal grinned weakly, hoping that Nick knew that this time he had truly made his maker proud. He somewhat doubted it, but Nick spoke before Hal could tell him.

"If we're going to be good guys," he said, looking straight at Hal, "I still intend to be remembered." He hesitated before continuing, and Hal knew before the words came that they were going to be completely unexpected. "So," Nick paused again, swallowed. "I'm going to need to actually learn about the Old Ones, this time, if we're going to destroy them. We've lost the War Child, but we can still take them out with a proper bit of planning."

* * *

**Thank you to everyone who's reviewed so far! Your feedback makes me ridiculously pleased. Anyway, I'm sort of planning for this to become Hal/Cutler slash, at the moment, but it's not really essential to the plot and could potentially just be strong friendship. So, if you have a strong preference either way, you should let me know and I may take that into consideration. Thanks again to everyone who's reading; you're honestly a big part of the reason I write. There'd be no point in telling a story if there was no one to tell it too, after all.**


	4. Complications

"_We've lost the War Child..."_

"What?" Hal questioned, fixating on one part of Cutler's speech. The way Cutler had spoken of Eve made it sound as though she was dead, but she couldn't be. Hal had seen her just that morning. Cutler looked at him, confusion in his eyes.

"I thought you said you were trying to be kind," Cutler said, stuttering a bit, "and I figured that meant you'd certainly left our way of life and were not on the side of the Old Ones. The only logical step from there is to try to stop the Old Ones, if you don't want to go back to them. Isn't that why you're here, instead of hiding away somewhere far from where they're coming?" Cutler's voice rose, becoming more confident. "Well I can help with that; in fact, with the state you're in right now you need my help!"

Hal ignored Cutler's fierce words, his mind still stuck on something else. "Not that," he said dismissively. "What were you saying about the War Child?"

"Oh right, you weren't there," Cutler said, seeming to have just realized something. "I suppose you wouldn't know, then, but we found the War Child, that baby from that old prophecy or whatever, but Regis killed it." Cutler snorted, as though he couldn't quite believe it, and Hal could not blame him. The Vampire Recorder was not really the sort who inspired great fear or confidence in his ability to kill things. "Course, then he disappeared," Cutler continued, "but I figure it must've been that werewolf, Tom, who offed him as retribution or whatever. I know Tom was there when Regis killed the kid."

Relief flowed through Hal as he realized that Eve was still safe. Eve and Tom were the primary things keeping him sane these days. Annie had helped as well, but after her mysterious disappearance all he had was the other two.

Cutler was still watching him, waiting for a reaction, so Hal smiled and said, "That's a relief, I suppose. After all, I don't want every vampire to die, just those I no longer like." He let his pleasure show, knowing how Cutler would interpret it for now. "Now, I suppose that I should tell you about the Old Ones, if you're going to have a chance in hell of making a successful plan that involves them."

BHBHBHBHBHBH

After about an hour of mostly Hal talking about how the Old Ones worked, people began to arrive for the party occurring that night in the club. At that point, Hal made hasty excuses to Cutler, telling him he wasn't ready to be around a lot of people at the moment and promising to return the next day, and then fled the club. Cutler was left staring after him in confusion and a bit of worry.

When Hal got back to the house, the first thing he noticed was that Annie was back. He could sense her presence upstairs. Sure enough, he had barely closed the door before she appeared in front of him. As soon as he saw her, he could tell that something was wrong. Annie refused to meet his eyes as she greeted him and let him know that Tom had gone out to transform for the night, then asked him where he'd been.

Hal kept an eye on Annie as they moved into the living room, his initial relief at her reappearance swiftly morphing into worry. "I think a more important question is where have you been?" he asked, sidestepping her question as he sat on the couch. He was surprised when tears appeared in her eyes.

Annie paced around the room, fidgeting and visibly uncertain. Finally, she answered Hal without looking at him. "I met Eve." Hal looked at her in confusion, wondering if the blood from earlier had made him so drunk that he was hallucinating. Seeing his confusion, Annie elaborated in a hesitant, shaky voice. "Well, I met the ghost of older Eve." Annie looked up at Hal at that point, and he was shocked by the anguish in her eyes. Through his own confusion, he tried to work out what exactly she could mean by that.

"Did she lose the war?" he asked. It was the only thing he could think of that would drive an older Eve to somehow travel through time via the afterlife, and would cause Annie to exude such grief. Unless, of course, he _was_ hallucinating. He still had not ruled out that possibility.

Annie looked away again and bowed her head. "She found out the last part of the prophecy." Tension hung thick in the air, and Annie sniffled as she got to the main point. "In order for the vampires to die, she has to die. She's the nemesis, Hal, she's being the savior by traveling back through her own past to kill herself." A bitter laugh escaped Annie, and Hal realized she was crying, too. "Well, technically she wants us to kill her, but she's the driving force behind it. We're just the weapons."

Hal was glad that he was already sitting down. It took several moments of processing before he could come up with anything to say. "We cannot kill a baby," he said. In spite of Annie's words, that fact had lodged itself firmly in his mind, so he focused on it. Annie, on the other hand, collapsed into the chair by the couch and let out a strangled sort of sob.

"How can we not?" she asked. "Eve showed me what the future would be like, and it's awful, Hal. I can't let that happen, but how can I kill George and Nina's kid?" Her gaze on him was pleading, desperate for him to come up with some way in which she would be able to keep the child of her deceased best friends alive without sacrificing the world.

The image of Cutler standing in the club, intent and determination shining in his eyes now that his original plan was scrapped, swam to the front of Hal's mind. If there was any way they could save the world, perhaps Cutler could come up with it. After all, he really was a fairly clever man when he actually had the information and help he needed. Hal tried to put as much confidence into his voice as he responded to Annie. "I don't know yet what we are going to do," he said, holding her gaze. "But I promise you this: we will find a way to defeat the Old Ones without sacrificing Eve."

He could tell that Annie desperately wanted to believe him, but could not quite bring herself to. Given that he was having a hard time believing himself, though, Hal found it difficult to fault Annie for calling his bluff. He just had to hope that she would at least give some other plans a chance before she gave up and killed Eve in a fit of panic or something.

They couldn't let Eve die. Perhaps Hal should have been surprised to learn that he had come to care about the awkward blob of a baby that was Eve, but he had grown unexpectedly fond of the tiny, messy, constantly crying and needy thing over the course of his time spent at the house. If there was any way to save her in spite of the prophecy, he would find it.

Their planning would have to wait until tomorrow, though. All Hal really wanted to do at that point was go to sleep and let his subconscious process everything that had happened in the past twenty four hours. He also needed to sleep off the drunkenness caused by his drinking blood for the first time in over fifty years, and at some point he would probably have to tell Annie to watch out for mood swings in case his dark side started resurfacing again. Hopefully she would not go crazy and decide that his dark side was a good thing that would absolve her of the task of killing Eve herself. On second thought, he decided that Tom would be a much better person to tell. The young werewolf would have no problem shoving a stake through Hal's chest the moment he showed any signs of wanting to hurt Eve. He might even enjoy getting the chance to finally kill Hal.

The next few days were going to be very long, he decided.

When he looked over at Annie again, he noticed that she looked just as tired and lost as he felt, curled up on the chair with her arms around her knees. Forcing himself to get up, Hal walked over to Annie on unsteady legs. "We should both go to bed for now," he said, hovering uncertainly over her shoulder. "I doubt the Old Ones will take over the world tonight if we give ourselves a few days to plan, and I imagine you could do with some rest." He left off the part about how he was about to collapse as well. There was no need to broadcast that particular fact.

Annie gave him a watery grin as she looked up from her knees. "I suppose that is true. We should at least wait for Tom." Hal gave her hand to help her out of the chair, and they ascended the stairs in silence. When they reached the point where they had to part into their separate rooms, Annie looked up at him for a moment, some inexplicable emotion shining in her dark brown eyes. "Whatever happens in the future, Hal, I want you to know that I have been so proud of you," Annie whispered, taking Hal completely by surprise. "I _know_ that you are a good man." She touched his shoulder briefly, then turned into her room and closed the door, leaving Hal standing speechless in the hallway.

Something warm and strange that he had not felt since losing Leo and Pearl worked its way into Hal's chest as he looked at Annie's door and ran over her words in his mind. Only Leo had ever told Hal he was proud of him and believed in him with such conviction; for all that she had cared about him, Pearl had always been a bit disapproving about his past and uncertain about his future. Hearing Annie express such complete faith in him brought about unexpected feelings, and he felt as though he finally understood Nick Cutler a little bit better. It was nice to know that someone was proud of him, that someone thought he was worth caring about so deeply.

Later, after Hal had gone through his nightly routines, changed, and slipped into bed, he realized something else. Not once during his nightly routine had Hal felt the earlier drunken feeling that had plagued him ever since that first glass of blood with Cutler. Hearing Annie profess her conviction in his goodness had given him a new determination. He would not let her down. He would work with Nick to bring down the Old Ones, and fix one of his worst mistakes in the process by reminding Nick that he could be a good man again, too.

That night, in spite of all that had happened and all that was yet to happen, Hal Yorke fell asleep with a smile of true contentment on his face.

* * *

**So, there was one vote for Hatler slash, and the rest of the votes said either way would be fine. Therefore, this will probably end up being slash. As I said, though, that won't happen for at least several more chapters. Both Hal and Cutler need to work through some things, first. As always, reviews are super awesome and make me incredibly happy, which makes me want to write more. ;)  
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**Also, I realized I haven't yet put in a disclaimer, so this is my blanket disclaimer for the story as a whole: I do not own Being Human or any of its wonderful characters. All I own is my little AU idea, and even then I'll probably end up throwing in some scenes and whatnot from the show that I still want to use. So, not mine. The amazing BBC has all right to Being Human and the characters; I'm just playing with them for a bit.**


	5. An Unpleasant Morning

The next morning found Hal and Annie sitting at the kitchen table when Tom wandered in, looking somewhat worse for wear from his night out. When he saw Annie and Hal sitting at the table, though, his eyes lit up and his whole posture seemed to straighten.

"Thank goodness yer back, Hal," he said while rummaging through the cupboards for food. "I were gettin' worried about ya." He turned around, arms full of cereal fixings, and finally seemed to notice the tense atmosphere. "Is somefing wrong?"

The question brought Hal and Annie out of their respective thoughts, and Annie immediately jumped up with a very forced smile. "Let me help you with all that, Tom, before you drop something on the floor," she cried, completely ignoring Tom's question. Hal watched as she grabbed the bowl and milk out of Tom's hands, setting them on the table in front of Tom's space. The young werewolf followed her a moment later with the cereal, a piece of fruit, and a spoon. Once he had his breakfast all set out in front of him, Tom began to dig in. Hal was always surprised at the manners the otherwise coarse werewolf showed while eating. He even made sure to swallow his food before asking his question again.

Just because Tom had the decency to display manners at meals did not mean Hal was going to answer the question, though. He ignored Annie's pleading look, too. She could be the one to tell Tom about future Eve and the prophecy; Hal was dealing with his own issues.

In contrast to his contentment of the previous night, Hal had awoken that morning with a ferocious need to drink blood. He'd been halfway to exiting the house to hunt down prey before he realized what he was doing. It had taken three domino circles and a talk with Annie before he calmed down enough to eat a civil breakfast. Currently, he was alternating between silent rage, self-hate, and the occasional moment spent hoping that Cutler was coming up with a brilliant plan and was not going to tempt him with more blood. Therefore, in spite of the growing fondness he felt for the uneducated but surprisingly well-mannered werewolf next to him, he was in no mood to deal with the conversation that was now occurring as Annie explained where she had been. The shout that broke through his musings was proof enough of that.

"Yer mus' be mad ter think o' killin' baby Eve!" Tom leapt to his feet with that shout, spilling cereal across the table. "We ain't killin' baby Eve over no proph'cy!" Hal stood abruptly as well and found, to his alarm, that he was suddenly faced with an angry werewolf and a pleading ghost. "Tell 'er we ain't killin' Eve, Hal!" Tom yelled.

At the same time, Annie softly interjected, "I don't want to kill her, you both know I would never want that, but I don't know what to _do!"_

When Tom turned back to Annie with a softer tone and the two became once more wrapped up in their conversation, Hal decided that would be a good time to escape. He mumbled a hasty apology, left the kitchen, and, as shouts rose once more, slipped out the front door and down the walk. He sincerely hoped that Cutler was feeling up to being nice today, because he wasn't sure how much more yelling and general lack of calm he could take before he snapped and killed the entire bloody town.

BHBHBHBHBHBH

Unfortunately for Hal, he had forgotten that giving up the remainders of his soul a few hundred years ago in order to become a monster meant that whatever god might be out there had a nasty habit of making sure things went exactly against what he hoped whenever he was trying to be good. No sooner had he arrived at the club than he was accosted by a wild looking Cutler.

"The Old Ones are here. They arrived last night."

Hal seriously considered turning around and walking right back out of the club. It didn't help that the club was still pretty trashed from the previous night, which made Hal twitch in discomfort. Only the somewhat pathetic pleading look on Cutler's face stopped him, as he reminded himself that it was his own damn fault that Cutler had to deal with any of this in the first place. Still, he sort of wished that he had his entire set of dominoes rather than just the one that he always kept in his pocket. It would be nice to make another spiral at the moment; he might have even made a double spiral with some nice little swoopy bits on the ends if he had all his dominoes.

"Did you talk to them?" Hal finally asked, and Cutler shook his head.

"I didn't talk to them, I was up all night trying to plan, and then I go by the warehouse this morning and I could bloody well sense them from a mile away." The younger vampire shuddered. "They remind of how you used to be, from what I saw of them." Fear flashed clearly across his face, before it was replaced by annoyance. "I also found out that you were right about them not liking my plans. At least, I assume it must've been them."

This caught Hal's attention, and he threw a sharp, questioning glance at Cutler, who was already explaining. "I checked Youtube this morning, and the vampire video, the one of Tom and that other guy, is gone. Like, completely gone, even the remakes. Then I checked Twitter and there was hardly a peep on werewolves, and even the group I set up on Facebook is gone. Even the video in defense of werewolves that weird debater girl posted on her Blog the other week has been removed. Though, I suppose that last one wasn't really my work." Cutler said all of this in a rush, but Hal just felt as though his head was spinning with all the unfamiliar words flying past him. He had a feeling that the "weird debater girl" had used quite a few of those words, but he still had no idea what they meant.

Cutler took a moment to realize that Hal was being suspiciously silent. Finally he glanced over at Hal in the midst of his pacing and realized that his maker was fiddling absently with a domino and looking utterly dazed, clearly not listening at all anymore. "Do you have any idea what I just said?" Cutler asked, a hint of exasperation in his voice. When Hal merely continued to stare blankly at him, he sighed. "Bloody Old Ones," he muttered. Hal understood that just fine, and scowled.

"I understand just fine that the Old Ones are here, and that they cared just as little as I told you they would for your plan," Hal said. It did give him a moment of pause that the other Old Ones apparently knew enough about whatever Cutler had been talking about to remove everything the man had set up so thoroughly, but he ignored that feeling. "What I don't understand is what this has to do with any plan you may have come up with to stop the Old Ones."

Cutler glared at him. "I spent ages setting that up, and it disappeared overnight. I think I've got every right to complain a bit. And you," he stabbed a finger towards Hal, "have no right _not_ to listen, so I'll thank you to stop being such a right bastard and pay attention to someone other than yourself for once." He twitched a bit at the end of his speech, but the movement was lost on Hal.

The older vampire had let his calm, impenetrable Old One mask fall into place as he responded. A sinister smile twisted his lips, and he said softly, "I could very easily kill you for that." Cutler seemed to have finally realized just what he'd said, and cowered a bit. Hal rode over any response he might have made. "I saw something in you worth saving, once, but if you are only going to prove yourself to be a whining animal with no self control then I can easily rescind my decision." By this point, he had Cutler backed up into a wall, eyes darting everywhere but at Hal.

The two vampires stayed that way for several moments, Hal looming over Cutler who had retreated into his usual hunch against the wall and stared determinedly at the floor. Slowly, Cutler raised his head till he was looking Hal in the eyes, who suddenly realized a desperate need to move. The older vampire lurched away from Cutler and turned towards the rest of the room. A confused tangle of thoughts ran through his head, but guilt was chief among them, as it so often was over the past fifty five years. It really didn't help that he had backed Cutler into a rather distressing stain on the floor, and Hal was a bit worried that some of it may have gotten on his shoes. That would not help his frame of mind.

"Anyway," Cutler said a moment later, "I don't have a plan." That certainly caught Hal's attention.

"What do you mean, you don't have a plan?" He asked. "That was the whole reason I spent so long talking to you yesterday, so that you could come up with a plan!"

"You mean you spent about an hour talking to me and then ran off without any sort of explanation!" Cutler glared at Hal defiantly, his anger apparently once more overriding his fear. "I thought we were going to work together, but I have no idea if I can trust you." Hal opened his mouth indignantly, but Cutler talked right over him. "I still have no idea where you've been all these years, or where you're staying now. You just waltzed back into my life after I thought you were _dead_; did you ever think about how I'd feel about that? Then you do come back and first you're all weird and I find out you've not been drinking, but of course as soon as you start spending any time around me you're back to death threats and 'Oh Cutler I expect you to do everything but I'll just keep calling you a useless moron and threaten your idiotic excuse for a life when you fail to come up with a plan to kill the bloody Old Ones in _one night!'"_

By the end of his speech, Cutler was breathing heavily and glaring at a point slightly to the left of Hal's shoulder. Hal, for his part, contained his shock behind an impressively impassive façade.

"I suppose I owe you another apology," Hal said a moment later, a slight shifting of his stance the only sign of his discomfort (the stickiness with which one of his feet shifted confirmed that he had indeed gotten _something_ on his shoe). In truth, he had not really expected Cutler to come up with a plan overnight; his earlier outburst had been more drawn from stress than dissatisfaction. "Perhaps we should go somewhere where we can sit and discuss this matter in a more civilized manner. This club is rather filthy and not the most appropriate place for a conversation."

A glance around the club clued Cutler in to the clear after effects from the party. He rolled his eyes. "Yes, I suppose somewhere else would be more appropriate." He, too, finally noticed the sticky _something_ on his foot when he moved away from the wall. "Ugh, humans can be far more disgusting than vampires, sometimes." That comment, Hal could fully agree with.

BHBHBHBHBHBH

Around half an hour later, Hal found himself outside the rather upscale restaurant that Cutler had suggested for their discussion. Apparently, it was a good place for fairly discrete conversations. Unfortunately, this meant that he'd had to return home briefly to change into more suitable clothing. He had been worried about having to explain himself to Annie and Tom, but that had luckily proven unnecessary.

Somehow, the two had still been fighting in the kitchen when Hal got back to the house, though from the sounds of things it had morphed into a conversation about, of all things, rubber ducks ("I'm jus' sayin' I never 'ad one when I were a kid, an' I fink it'd be right sad if baby Eve never 'ad one either!" - "We're not buying her a rubber duck family, Tom! She's already got piano lessons and all the Mozart CDs we've been getting her; money doesn't grow on trees, and rubber ducks don't have educational value!")

In order to avoid the madness that was his new family as much as to avoid the questions, Hal had grabbed the first suit he came across, changed, and been out of the house quicker than you could say 'savior baby.' Now, as he walked into the small but clearly affluent restaurant, he swiftly picked out Cutler seated at a table near the back and made his way over. Cutler stood to greet him, but the look on his face was one of mild affront as he took Hal in.

"What on Earth is that?" Cutler asked, pointing to Hal. A confused Hal glanced down at himself. There was nothing immediately wrong with his appearance so far as he could tell. He was wearing the same brown-green suit he had worn when he first met Annie and Tom, and Annie had clearly cleaned it since then, and even ironed it (though he had had to re-iron it once, as there had still been a small wrinkle in the sleeve when Annie finished).

"What is what?" Hal asked in his best 'tolerating' voice.

"What you're wearing. What _are_ you wearing?" Cutler continued pointing at Hal.

Hal rolled his eyes. "It's called a suit, Cutler, you said this place required nicer dress."

"Yes, but I didn't expect you to walk in looking like someone's grandfather." Cutler sounded far too indignant as he spoke. It annoyed Hal, and he glared when he spoke next.

"This suit happens to be quite fashionable," he growled. "It's all the modern folk today who have no taste." He tacked on a sneer at the end, for good measure.

The sneer, of course, had no effect on Cutler in the face of what he clearly saw as a grievous affront to fashion. "Hal, I understand that you're an Old One," he began patiently, "but I don't think that means you have to _look_ quite so old."

Hal glared. Why, if he just had a nice lance on him or a proper whip, he'd show Cutler exactly what _old_ things could do. He wondered if he could play his lute loud enough to drown out Cutler's screams. Maybe that could be the next task in his quest for new challenges to keep him sane.

Probably fortunately for the path Hal's thoughts were taking, the two were interrupted in their staring contest by a nervous waiter. "Um, would you two gentlemen like anything to drink?" the man asked, looking very much as though he would prefer to just run away and never return to their table when he was faced suddenly with the full force of the stares of two aggravated vampires. Cutler recovered himself first, offering his customary awkward yet charming grin.

"We'll just have water, thanks," he said quite pleasantly. The waiter scurried away gratefully, not even waiting for Hal to order.

Hal stood for moment longer, taking deep breaths and wishing for a nice quite place with enough dominoes to fill a castle. Finally, he sat down across from Cutler, who had already retaken his seat after ordering the water. There was a moment of strained silence as Hal blatantly straightened the (perfectly fashionable) waistcoat of his (highly sophisticated) green suit. Once he was certain that everything was properly straight and orderly, he spoke.

"I do apologize for the tone of my words earlier," he began. "However, it is imperative that we construct some sort of plan swiftly. The Old Ones do not like to sit around, and they will put their plan into action without the assistance of the group they were meant to be meeting here, if they have to. From what you said yesterday, they have already positioned others across Europe, and I would not doubt that they have vampires waiting for their signal in other parts of the world as well."

Cutler sighed and looked away from Hal. Their waiter chose that moment to reappear, bringing with him two glasses of water and a basket of bread. When he left, Cutler picked a slice of bread from the basket, buttered it, then sat for a bit and poked at it occasionally while continuing to ignore Hal.

"You know, ignoring me is not going to change my outfit, and it's certainly not going to take care of the Old Ones," Hal finally said, annoyance seeping into his words. Cutler snorted.

"I know that," he said, finally looking at Hal. "I was thinking. I know that any plan we make will have to be carried out quickly, which is frustrating. Everyone knows a good plan should take time and proper careful setting up." He took a drink from his glass of water, then continued. "I'm really going to need your help if we want to pull off anything." He glared. "That means no more running away and hiding things. Deal?"

Hal hesitated. There was no way he was telling Cutler about Annie, Tom, and Eve. As much as he did want to help Cutler and make up for his past mistakes, he would not but his new friends in danger to do so. A tiny flicker of doubt crossed Cutler's eyes while Hal deliberated, and that made up his mind. Just because he and Cutler were working together did not mean they had to share truly everything. Besides, it wasn't like Annie and Tom would be important to whatever plan they came up with. Holding out his hand, Hal gave his best attempt at a winning smile and said, "Deal."

The two vampires shook hands, and Cutler relaxed back into his seat. After that they spent the rest of their meal planning and, surprisingly, just talking at points. All in all, it was a very interesting morning.

* * *

**So, this is a bit later than my other chapters have been, but it's also a fair bit longer. I also tried to add in a bit of humor, since I've noticed that most of my chapter are lacking entirely in anything but angst and drama. I'm a bit worried that I failed miserably, so you should review and let me know either way. If you saw anything else worth commenting on, you should review for that, too. Seriously, the only way I'll know what people like and what I should just not try again is if people tell me. Also, I just love reviews. Heh.**


	6. Lost

**AN:** So, this is what happens when I try to write porn. Warnings for lack of porn ahead?

* * *

**1955**

The peace of the posh hotel was shattered with the arrival of Hal Yorke. He strode through the doors like he owned the place, which, to be fair, he did. His arrival was met with a flurry of activity as the vampires in the lobby hurried to find a task to occupy their eyes so they would not have to meet those of the Old One. No one could tell, these days, when Hal would be in the mood to break bones for an unwanted look; even with vampire healing, broken bones hurt like a bitch. It was better to let someone else approach him first.

"Cutler!" Hal barked, not even glancing at his lackeys as he headed for the staircase at the back of the lobby. The vampire in question received several unsympathetic glances and more than a few snickers as he jumped at the sound of his name, sending the papers he had been sorting through floating to the ground. He cursed, ignoring the sneers and whispers of the others. Those papers would take ages to sort out again.

"Leave it," Hal said from near the stairs. Cutler flushed at the fact that his maker did not even need to look to know that he had dropped something. "I want to talk to you."

With one last frustrated look at his work, Cutler sighed and followed Hal up the stairs, to one of the nicest rooms near the top of the hotel that Cutler had never been in before. Usually, he talked to Hal in the room a few floors down that Hal had commandeered for a study. Hal held the door for Cutler, waiting for the younger man to enter before following. The click of the lock sounded ominous in the quiet of the room.

Cutler's first impression was of red. The color dominated the room: crimson wallpaper, red sheets on the bed, even a deep red carpet. He hoped he would not be adding any of his own red blood to the décor.

Cutler swallowed, turning to face Hal. "What did you want…" he began, but his question trailed off as he found himself pressed against a wall, Hal crowding into his space with a look of frightening intensity in his eyes.

"I have been having," Hal said, shuddering as he breathed in Cutler's scent, "a bad week." Cutler, pinned against the wall by one of Hal's hands on either side of his head, held back a snort. From he'd seen, it was more than a bad _week_ that Hal had been having. Instead, he held himself still, waiting to hear why Hal had called him up. He dearly hoped he wasn't about to get dusted just because his maker needed to let off some steam.

Hal leaned into him, his hands pressing against the wall while his breath sounded sharp and harsh in the otherwise quiet room. After a moment, Cutler realized that Hal was _smelling _him.

So, he probably wasn't going to get killed, but he was not entirely sure he was going to like this 'talk' anyway.

Cutler took a shaky breath and found his voice. "A-are you a'right?" he asked proud of himself when his voice only shook a little bit. Hal responded by growling low in his throat, and Cutler decided that maybe he had decided too soon that he was not going to die.

"I need," Hal said finally, his calm, slow voice at odds with his too harsh breathing, "something to take my mind off of things for a while." He pressed flush against Cutler, and the younger vampire finally understood.

Cutler's breath caught in his throat, and his mind went blank. A very obvious erection was pressed into his thigh, and he became rather suddenly aware of his own half-hard cock.

"You're awfully quiet, for once," Hal said, his voice a whisper in Cutler's ear. Cutler wasn't sure when Hal had begun kissing his neck, but the soft sensations sent little tremors of pleasure down his spine, pooling in his belly and his groin. He whined with pleasure as Hal licked a path up his neck, following the artery that had carried life-sustaining blood to his head, back when his heart still beat. "If I had known it was this easy to shut you up, I'd have tried this ages ago," Hal mumbled, a soft laugh muffled by Cutler's skin. One of his hands had made its way from the wall to the back of Cutler's head, and he wound his fingers in Cutler's dark hair, mussing the neat locks and dragging Cutler's head to the side for better access to his neck.

With a great effort of will, Cutler brought his hands up and pushed at Hal's chest. The Old One pushed back at first, misinterpreting the gesture, before he pulled away and stared down at Cutler, his eyes fully black and a scowl on his face. "What?" he asked. "Are you not enjoying yourself?" His lips quirked in a nasty smile. "I thought you wanted to get my attention more often."

Cutler swallowed, his mouth going dry. It would be so _easy_ to give in, to let Hal use his body and get lost in his maker. His cock throbbed in response to his thoughts, fully hard now. "I c-can't," he said, watching annoyance flash across Hal's face.

"I should have known you would be useless even at this," Hal said. His grin was as sharp as his fangs, and Cutler looked away.

The red wallpaper bled over his vision, reminding him of the thirst that never left, the unquenchable _need_ to slaughter and consume every human he came across. Blond hair and bright eyes flitted through his mind, a memory of the love that monsters did not deserve. Hal was his maker, his god, his everything, but he was just a fleeting annoyance, bringing pleasure these days only in amusement at his continued failures. It was a wonder Hal hadn't brought him up here to kill him and put him out of his misery.

Hal yanked once, viciously, with the hand still wrapped in Culter's hair, and Cutler found his eyes dragged back to Hal's. Even with his eyes turned back to their usual hazel, they still looked dead, empty and cold. "If you're not going to make yourself useful, then get out of my sight," Hal said, dragging his nails across Cutler's cheek as he removed his hand.

Cutler imagined the red streaks that would not appear on his face from the gesture; no mark would be left from blood beneath the skin of one who's heart no longer beat. Then again, Hal had already marked Cutler in a much deeper manner long ago. Without thinking about it, he reached out to grasp Hal's hand.

"Wait," he said, his soft voice catching in his throat, and he would have flushed if he were still able to. Hal glanced back at him, one perfect eyebrow raised over a disinterested countenance. Cutler stumbled over his words in an attempt to explain something even he did not fully understand. "I-I want to," he said, "but I d-don't know how."

Hal laughed, cruel and mocking. "I would have thought that even _you_ could figure out the mechanics of sex, Cutler," he said. "I remember that pretty wife of yours." He smirked, and the sight was far more terrifying than his fangs. "But then, maybe she only married you because she knew you were too pathetic to try anything. I let the boys play with her before they killed her, you know. She was quite a screamer." Hal grinned at his own joke, and Cutler slumped against the wall, his knees nearly giving out.

"Stop it," he said, voice muffled by the hands he held over his face, trying to block out the memories. Hal only laughed harder.

"Please," Cutler begged. "Not that. I know I'm a rubbish vampire, and you can mock me all you want, but _please_. Don't mock that."

The laughter ceased, and Cutler chanced a look up. Hal was frowning down at him, an inscrutable look in the older vampire's eyes. "No," Hal said, almost seeming to speak to himself. "I suppose I shouldn't mock that." He grinned again, but now there was something brittle to the expression, as though it were a painted mask held together with cheap glue.

"Well," he said, false cheerfulness descending upon his words, "I suppose you at least managed to distract me a bit from my thoughts, so that's something. There's another dogfight tomorrow, as I'm sure you know. I expect I'll see you there. I'm betting we'll see another dead human at the end, but it won't keep happening too much longer; this dog's tougher than most, but he's got to wear down eventually." With a start, Cutler realized that Hal was babbling.

"Righ'," Cutler said, rising slowly from the crouch he had fallen into. "If that's all?" He glanced hopefully at the door.

"Of course," Hal said, already turning away. "I'm sure you had something unimportant to attend to." The barb lacked the sting of Hal's usual insults, but Cutler was still all too happy to escape. That had been a thoroughly unsettling experience.

He glanced back one last time, noting Hal's profile where he stood beside his desk, the last rays of sun falling across his features and painting him in shades of gray that contrasted with the rest of the room. He seemed almost a shadow like that, a distant, unreachable figure come down from some far off place to mingle with lesser mortals. Cutler shivered, a mixture of desire and shame trickling down his spine. He would never be worthy of a man like Hal.

* * *

Later, after Hal disappeared right before the dogfight was set to begin, nothing but broken chains and a bit of dust shifting across the ground remaining to tell his fate, Cutler would find himself back in that room at the top of the hotel, flinging papers from Hal's desk in a desperate bid to find some _reason_ for what had clearly occurred. He would drop to the ground, struggling to hold in screams of rage, silent shudders wracking his body as he tried in vain to suppress the emotions that always proved his ruin.

It seemed too easy, that Hal should be killed by an escaped werewolf. Lord Harry was a legend, an Old One. He was Cutler's maker and the vampire who had stolen every scrap of Cutler's life and replaced it with himself. Cutler would bite down on his hand, the warm blood that oozed from the wound a poor substitute for the living blood he craved, ever since that first meeting with Hal.

Now that Hal and Rachel were both gone, Cutler would realize that he was nothing again, reduced to the little boy he had once been, standing alone, mocked and hated on childish playgrounds in primary school. Hal had given him the illusion of greatness for a brief moment, a hope for meaning in his life.

Cutler would remember the events of the previous evening, and a part of him wonder if maybe he could have done something, should have been there when Hal went to speak to the wolf. Another part of him would think, cruelly, that Hal deserved his fate. Most of him, though, would just be numb.

He would get up later, return to the rest of the group and keep on trying to make something of himself as he always did. Later, he would face the rest of Hal's gang, and he would find himself treated like dirt that had been tracked in from the wild, no Hal to form a snake-tongued barrier between Cutler the constant failure and the ones who wished to just kill him so they would not have to put up with him anymore. For that night, however, he would stay undisturbed in Hal's room, lost and alone with Hal's scent all around him one last time.


End file.
